“Whoa. What happened to your cheek?” Her little hand pointed upward, eyes squinting in the sun behind me. “It looks like a bad man hurt you.” Her eyes narrowed. “Did the bad man hurt you? I hope you made him pay. Those sorts of people shouldn’t be allowed to go around making other people ugly.”
Every word lacerated me until I felt like a large tree being hacked at with an axe. Every syllable and consonant chipped away at my already crumbling foundation, and my roots began to snap.
My left leg gave out, slamming hard against pebbles. My right leg joined until I kneeled before the one thing in my world I couldn’t fight.
I toppled to the ground before her, undone by her pristine innocence.
Every organ howled against conditioning, every bone bellowed in agony—my refusal to inflict anymore pain brought mind-numbing orders, amplifying and amplifying, enraged by my disobedience.
I no longer needed fists to find redemption. I found punishment just by staring into the eyes of someone so pure.
“Do you understand English?” the girl asked, moving to stand right in front of me. Her eye level was slightly higher than mine, making me feel as though I should bow to her, obey her, worship her.
I didn’t know what compelled me to reply, but I couldn’t stop. “Yes. I understand English.”
She smiled, clapping her dainty hands. “Great. I thought you did seeing as you told me not to touch you. What language were you talking just now?”
“Russian.”
“And your cheek. Did a bad man do that?”
“Yes.”
Her smile increased and a flash of anger that shouldn’t be seen on a little girl’s face crossed her features. “Did you kill him? I would’ve killed him.”
Who was this child? This perfect, brilliant, brave, little child.
I hung my head. “No. He’s still alive.”
She tutted. “Well, I would kill him.” Flicking her hair over her shoulder, she announced, “I like you.” Her face scrunched up as if I’d passed her test of likeability and stuck her hand out. “I’m Clara. What’s your name?”
A lazy, warm wind drifted across the driveway, rustling the trees ringing the perimeter. I gawked at the little girl dressed in a purple sweater and black leggings. Her hair hung loose, strands kicking in the breeze. A single purple ribbon twirled around her jaw.
My vision blurred around the edges.
This girl was everything I needed. Everything I was running from and to, and I didn’t even know it.
Her sweet fearlessness clutched my heart and in a matter of moments, she’d monopolized my every thought.
My gravity shifted.
I fell madly f**king in love.
I knew I shouldn’t do it.
I knew I should run and never look back.
But I didn’t.
Holding out my hand, I moaned when her little fingers squeezed around mine. Tears sprang to my eyes in overwhelming gratitude. Gratitude for being able to retain my self-control and gratitude for this perfect creature.
Her touch shattered me.
Her touch awoke me.
Her touch destroyed me.
“Hello, Clara.” I looked up into her liquid eyes. “I’m Roan.”
Chapter 13
I’d always known life had its favourites. Like a parent sometimes has a favourite child, life lavished attention and gifts galore on the ones it favoured. The ones it didn’t care for were forgotten. Allowed to survive, but given no special treatment.
I was one of the ones allowed to survive—to carve my own journey with no help.
But Fox, he was someone else entirely.
He was the child that every parent hated. The one no one understood. The one everyone pretended didn’t exist.
Not because he was evil or awkward or cruel—but because he was damaged and needed too much repairing to be feasible.
Ignorance and hatred pushed that child into the dark and their only chance was to turn inward, suffer silently.
I wanted to hate him.
I wanted to despise him.
He hurt me.
He used me.
Again and again.
But ultimately, I understood him.
I forgave him.
But I would never be able to save him.
Three life changing events came in quick succession.
The first happened when Clue charged through the doors of Obsidian’s fighting floor and almost knocked me on my ass. I’d been on my way out—about to leave Fox’s world forever—when she burst in out of nowhere.
I whirled backward, only to be caught by Corkscrew as he appeared right behind her.
One look from her tear-swimming eyes—I knew.
Something had happened to Clara.
“Is she okay? Tell me!” Panic lashed in my blood, flaying me alive. “Tell me, Clue! Now!” Nightmarish scenarios crushed my brain.
Clara dead.
Clara in a coma.
Clara gone forever.
My eyes grew wider; heart pounded harder. “She’s de—dead?”
Corkscrew’s fingers dug into my elbow, keeping me steady as Clue captured my cheeks and shook her head. Her almond eyes were red from crying, but she seemed calm. “No! She’s fine.”
She’s fine. Thank f**king God.
Panic gave way to undiluted anger.
“You gave me a f**king panic attack to come and tell me she’s fine?” I shrugged Corkscrew off, clutching my rapidly thudding heart. “I don’t understand.”
Clue shot a look at her backup support. Ben was the one who swallowed and said, “She collapsed at school.” His voice was soft and smooth, keeping me calm even as my body felt as if it exploded with shrapnel. “She suffered a seizure for three minutes. The school called an ambulance who took her to the ER.”
My brain swam. My worst nightmares were coming true. Too soon. It’s too soon!
Her coughing fit the other night and now this? Her symptoms had increased rapidly.
I’d have to ask Fox for the money now. I’d have to come up with a story that warranted him parting with another one hundred thousand dollars.
Clue stroked my shoulders, her warmth and support doing wonders for my scattered thoughts. “She’s alright. The doctors don’t know what caused it—”
I snarled. “Of course they know what caused it. Fucking idiots for not catching it sooner.” I clutched my chest as a huge ball of agony lodged in my heart. “They didn’t catch it, Clue. Because of their mistake, they sentenced my daughter to death.”